EPISODE 4.04
ACT 1: Tight shot on a red screen. It begins to dim. Then black. A tight shot on a green light. New shot of the traffic light hanging in the night sky. Green fades to yellow and back again to red.
STOP.
Deserted road in the still dark early morning. A lone silhouette in the distance rambles closer and closer towards the screen. Identity comes into focus. Leo Johnson, hands in jacket pockets, breath escaping his mouth in the cold air, begins his day.
Main Street. Closed shop fronts with their windows darkened. Leo moves past them, sounds of his chilled body keeping warm the only noise. From his POV, Butler's Best 'the pink and white awning and Closed sign hanging apparent. Next to Nadine's shop, the cryptic lightless window of D.B.'s Apothecary. Stillness.
A beat. Leo bends down, fiddling with his boot. He produces a key from it, and wedges it into the bakery's door.
Zooooom!!! Screeeecchhhh!
Leo looks up as a red Dodge Dart careens down the street. Sounds of teenagers' howls of drunken enjoyment. It travels out of sight. Stray newspaper remnants blowing in its wake. Stillness again. The sound of the door's chime. Leo disappears inside. No sound or sound track, only quiet. Panning shot from Nadine's shop to Cooper's.
A beat.
Cut to interior of D.B.'s. The same as it was in the previous episode. Ed Hurley lies sprawled out in an armchair 'asleep or unconscious is not clear. However, the bed has been abandoned, only the sheets left disturbed. No sign of Cooper.
Nightlife in Twin Peaks' score softly hums.
Exterior shot of Main Street. Cut back to the traffic light as it changes again 'red to green.
Nightlight's theme fades as the music and screen becomes lighter. The optimistic
Shelly swells, and the glint of dancing white turns into a hanging chandelier. A blue balloon rises into frame, and then a shimmering gold one. The back of a person enters. Wide shot reveals the majestic hallway to the Ghostwood Country Club- it's floor a black and white chessboard, two sprawling staircases meeting one another at the second level. Front shot of Bobby Briggs taking in the preparation. He wears the red blazer of a Ghostwood attendant. A trio of busboys are filling the blue and gold balloons with helium.
A small beat. Bobby feels something push against him, turns to find two men carrying a large catering table. He sidesteps their path and then dodges another man balancing two large glass punch bowls on his shoulders. "Hey, watch it, man!" A portly woman crosses past Bobby with a bouquet of zinnias. A young man carries a microphone stand, and another a trumpet. Bobby can hardly stand in one place with the commotion. "Some circus. A lot of hub bub for some bums." Runs his hand through his hair, and takes out a defiant cigarette.
"Oh, Robert." Bobby hears the click, clicking shoes of a small effeminate yet imposing middle aged man. Mr. Givens cradles a large gray plastic bin filled with silverware. "Robert, Robert, Robert" He passes the bin to Bobby, cigarette dangling from his mouth. Givens can now lift a spoon in front of Bobby's face. "Would you eat off of that? I certainly wouldn't. Oh, Mrs. Martel won't care for that one bit. She'd be so disappointed, wouldn't you agree. Hmmm?" Bobby grunts, but Givens doesn't hesitate, continues scoping the activity. "Busy, busy, busy. Everything in its place, and a place for everything. Run these through again and mind they shine." Takes Bobby by the shoulders and spins him in the direction of the kitchen. But keeps a hand on him for a second, bringing him in to share the splendor of Ghostwood. "Pride in our work, Robert. Extreme and utter pride!" Bobby squints, thinks the whole thing is a sham. Givens pats him on the back, pushing him on his way. Stops and pulls him back, holds out his hand. Sternly, "Robert"
A half beat. Bobby, arms full, wiggles his lower lip dispensing the unlit cigarette into Given's palm. Givens pushes gently again heaving Bobby off to his assignment. Alone, Givens looks about. Another woman carries fresh flower cuttings. "Oh Mary, have you seen Mrs. Martell today?" The woman shrugs, continuing on. Givens looks disapproving. "Tsk, tsk, tsk." He puts Bobby's cigarette in his mouth and lights it. More blue and gold balloons float to the ceiling.
Shelly's theme moves along
A wooded road with patches of snow thawing. Panning right to a modest railroad style house. New shot of the side of the home. The screen door opens and Lucy exits carrying a plastic bag of garbage. She wears a baby blue bathrobe and giant black rubber rain boots 'most likely Andy's. Moves to two metal trash cans, and pauses. The lids have been removed and one is tipped over- banana peels and old lettuce wedges on the dirt. She sighs.
Closeup on a held open newspaper obscuring its reader. The Ghostwood anniversary leads the front page headline. A hand reaches out and lifts a coffee mug. Wide shot of a small friendly kitchen; baby blue polka dot wallpaper. On the Formica table are three place settings, a coffee urn, and a red toy fire truck. Lucy crosses behind the reader, heading for the sink, washing her hands. "Trash is littered all over the yard again." Nothing from the reader. Places the coffee mug down. Lucy wipes her hands. "It's probably raccoons which is what it was last week..." She reaches into a cupboard handling a mug.
A beat. "Raccoons remind me of my aunt who lives in Wyoming where they have raccoons too." Lucy pours coffee and sits down opposite to the hidden reader. "She couldn't get rid of her raccoons because she made the big mistake of feeding them albacore tuna. I don't know why she fed them albacore tuna. And albacore tuna is so expensive." Lucy frowns at the Ghostwood article.
A beat. "Andy?" The newspaper is lowered and folded. Andy sits there, his mind preoccupied. "Were you talking about raccoons?" Lucy nods, staring at him concerned. "Oh, Andy, it'll be all right." Andy takes another sip of coffee. Looks at the Ghostwood article. "I feel real dumb." Lucy runs his shoulder, "Nooooo, don't say that. You couldn't possibly know that Mrs. Martell would run away." He frowns, "She just seemed so nice and all and everything." Lucy assures him it wasn't his fault. Andy interjects, "I had one job to do, just one. And Lucy I failed." Quiet. Lucy concedes.
A beat. "Andy?"
Another beat. "I think I did something kinda dumb too." Andy looks to his wife with trepidation. She takes a sip. "I told Mr. Cooper some stuff that I don't think I should have told him first. I mean, I should have told Sherriff Truman first, or I don't know. I should have thought about it first. And then he ran off and like last time, it opened a whole new can of worms." Andy is concerned, "What did you tell him?" Lucy gulps. "A man I overheard at the station. He came to town asking about a ring, like" Andy completes her sentence, "Mr. Gerard?" She nods solemnly 'there's some unspoken history there. Then confesses, "I couldn't get a hold of Sherriff Truman, so I've been sitting on this" Andy advises to stop eavesdropping but the information is a good thing.
A beat. Lucy rises, "Better go wake Andy." She departs muttering about raccoons. Andy sits, takes his index finger and gives the toy fire truck a nudge.
Shelly's theme ends.
Open highway away from the town. Truman's pickup travels. Inside the vehicle, Truman studies the road. His face straightforward, betraying and giving no indication of any emotion.
Tight shot on Ed Hurley's sleeping face. The mechanical sounds of a print out stirs him. His eyes flutter as if he's enjoyed a deep slumber. Fully awake, he looks about his surrounding pinpointing the origin of the racket. Ed looks over his shoulder. Yards away at the front counter, a smiling Cooper. He's fully dressed and smiles back to Ed. Before him, an electric calculator is spitting out a series of receipts. "Morning, Ed." Ed is groggy, still searching- "Um, yeah. Morning. Gosh, I slept like a I don't know what. Like a drugged mule. What time is it?" Cooper grins, his eyes on the results of his tabulations. "Seven thirty. Got a full hour and a half until the whistle sounds." Looks to the man and with an eager little step to his speech, "Ed, how about I buy you a little breakfast?" Reaction shot of Ed, who's unsure of actually what transpired the night before. The twinkling beginning of
Packard's Vibration begins
The Great Northern Hotel falls.
Vibration's more ominous score moves along. Closeup of a bare toe under a sheet. Panning shot to a vanity, as Jones scrutinizes herself in the mirror, fastening an earring, smoothing her hair. She looks over to Hammett, naked under the sheets. He stirs and props himself on his side, wakes up and smiles at her. "You leaving so soon, Jonesy?" Her demeanor hard but still has a trace of smug satisfaction '"Idol hands for the wicked. Work must be done. We have a long day before us." Hammett sits, propped up by the pillow behind him 'he's already reached for the morning cigarette. "I have everything under control." Jones takes a brush and strikes her hair methodically, "I'm still not convinced. Catherine Martell has disappeared; Little Horne refuses to sell" Hammett interrupts, "It's not about that, it never was" Jones continues, never looking at him, only stroking her hair, "Laura Hunt botches a simple job, and Judy must wait longer." Jones curses in a foreign tongue at the ineptness. Hammett nonchalantly sighs his smoke into the air, "Laura Hunt is dead." Jones could not care less, "Judy has a replacement. That girl was a fool. Death was too good for her." Jones rises, and strides to a closet. Hammett mutters, "Almost time to go down and bait and hook." Jones adding, "Rosenfield is weak and soft. You tell him what he wants to hear. I will take Miss Horne back tonight." Hammett corrects her '"No, not tonight. It's too early. And
I will take Audrey back." Jones lifts a tuxedo from the closet 'holds it up to inspect. "You look very nice in this." She lays it on the bed. Hammett runs his hand along the fabric. Jones opens a dresser drawer, her fiddling obscured '"I only wish there were time to find Catherine myself. I get great delight in placing my fingers around her throat and squeezing, having her beg for clemency." Hammet laughs that Jones is a devil. Jones turns to him, "Catherine and Andrew have demolished all of Thomas Eckhardt's lifeblood of work over imbecilic jealousy." Again, she damns them in an alien tongue. Jones scans the structure of the hotel room, "I only wished this place would crumble as quickly. Too much work to do with this obstruction." She lights a match and turns her back to Hammett. He watches unsure. Jones gets a thrill, "Judy has found a girl that fits the same description nicely. Enough to be mistaken once burned. Do you think Judy's sister is here now? Watching us? Our lovemaking? Wishing and wanting to partake?" Hammett doesn't answer, too spooked by Jones' private titillation. He casually pleads once more, "Let me handle Cole's men my way, okay Jonesy? -------?" Hammett's voice goes gentle, and throws her a term of endearment in a foreign tongue- belaying he is from another land. Jones turns 'her hand has a burning passport in it. Hammett is disheartened. Visible in the passport is a photo of Audrey Horne. Jones repeats to Hammett while placing the burning remnant into an ashtray '"You are weak and soft too. We do as Judy says.
I will take Miss Horne back tonight."
Vibration pulses.
Ed's Gas Farm. Donna's station wagon pulls in, the pump's bell ringing. Donna shifts in her seat, takes her account ledger to make a note. She glances up, prepared for Ed Hurley. Instead she finds James' staring down at her 'his face distant, but not unwelcoming. She's taken aback. "James." No reply. He looks at her- taking her in. She doesn't know what to say, then motions her head to her gas tank.
A beat. James is gone. Donna, framed in the driver's window, sits there. Lost. Thinking of a pleasantry to say '"How's it g" James' body has passed the window towards the front of the car. Long shot of the wagon with the pump filling the tank. James has taken a cloth and begins on the dashboard. From Donna's POV, James makes large swiping movements cleaning the glass. Close-up on Donna's face 'the shadows of James' arms dancing on her face 'hypnotically, a love song's melody hum '
Just You. Donna continues to watch softly, mesmerized. Again, from her POV, James' cleaning is like a caress. Tenderly, lifting each windshield wiper and wiping it clean. Another large stroke.
Just You dreamily moves along giving Donna a sense of deep warmth; closes her eyes, pats her stomach.
In love, we go strolling together In love, we go strolling forever Donna savors the moment, opens her eyes. He's gone. Wide shot of the wagon as James is unlatching the gas pump. Donna shakes it off, and
Just You trickles away. James is back to her open window. Donna wants to say something but can't. What is there to say? She slowly hands a bill to James, and watches as he limps away back into the Gas Farm. Donna pulls in her lower lip, and lets out a breath.
Just You resounds
'Just you and I Just you and I Donna shifts the gear and pulls away. Close-up through a screen door on James.
High School Swing sounds. Lana Stark tucks a pencil behind her ear, and turns revealing the space. Pink and white checkerboard table clothes adorn each of the small tables in Butler's Best. A few elderly patrons at each spot save for one. They nibble on scrumptious sugar coated muffins and other confections. Cooper enters with a broad smile and Ed follows 'the men seem like awkward giants in Nadine's dainty hideaway. Cooper holds up two fingers, "Lana, two coffees!" Lana lowers her horn-rimmed glasses, "You got it, D.B. You boys bring your appetite?" Cooper looks to Ed, "How about a sunny smile omelet? Three types of cheese, one is goat, and two kinds of sweet sausage! It is out of this world outstanding!" Ed worries about being "on Nadine's turf, but can't argue with my stomach." Cooper is pleased; turns to Lana again '"Lana, two sunny smiles!" Lana smiles cocksure, stops and glances Ed over from head to toe, "Hiiiii, Big Ed." Ed gives it right back, "Well, hello Little Lana darling." She giggles 'still has the coquette in her somewhere. She can't help but chide him, "Norma know you sniffing around here? Bet she did, you'd be getting a whalloping whoopin' when you git home." She watches as Ed uncomfortable fits himself into one of the small chairs. She giggles again, "Or you come here to win Nadine back?" Ed gives a nervous chuckle. Cooper gives Lana a stern look. Lana brushes it off, "Okay, okay, I'm just foolin' with you both, that's all" Arches a brow at Cooper, "Besides, it ain't Eddie Nadine is fixing on no more. Ain't that right, D.B? I'll go get them eggs." She departs with a laugh, and as Cooper sits across from Ed, he makes contact with a figure in the background bending over and cleaning a table- Leo Johnson. Leo and Cooper hold on one another for a beat, like primal animals sensing the other will always be a danger to the other.
Cooper breaks from his gaze, and pleasantry is returned. He unfolds his napkin and tucks it into his collar preparing for a feast. He leans into Ed, "You feeling on the up and up?" Ed grimaces, "feel like I'm still getting my sea legs, know what I mean." He rubs his temples, interrupted by Leo who fills each of their mugs with coffee. Ed pauses, waiting for Leo to move along. A cough from across the room. A hearty short, plump elderly man brings his napkin to his mouth. He has a thick white moustache and beard, wears lumberjack plaid. His coughing subsides and goes back to reading the Gazette. Ed resumes, "Ever feel like you've blacked out and been away for everything for a week?" Cooper nods. Ed takes in coffee aroma, "Kinda how I'm feelin' right now. Maybe I'm just coming down with a dog of a cold."
CHIME 'bakery's door has opened. Cooper says this time of year, "is deceiving in giving man complacency. When winter and spring touch, the immune system and spirit don't always see eye to eye if you catch my drift." Ed mulls, "Or maybe we're just getting old" A shadow of a figure darkens their table, "Who's getting old?" Sure enough, Nadine Butler is on the scene. She carries a bundle of groceries and her deranged candy striper uniform. "We're
all getting older, Ed. That's just the hard facts of life. Can't fight that. None of that matters though as long as you stay young at heart isn't that right, D.B.?" Cooper displays a pleasant smile, and Ed tells Nadine, she's "got the right outlook." Nadine remembers her manners, "Good morning, fellas. Morning, Eddie. Mooooorning, D.B." She lingers her sight on Cooper for a moment, lovingly taking him in. "You ain't playing hooky today? Cooper scans his watch '"Forty five minutes and counting." Always regimented. Nadine places her hands on her hips, "You're looking mighty fit, Ed. Good to see Norma's feeding you." Rests her hand on Cooper, "This one don't eat. Do all I can to make sure he isn't wasting away to skin and bones." She fixes the pleats in her skirt '"Ed, imagine you're taking Cinderella tonight to Ghostwood. That seems like it be right up Norma's ally." She sighs, looking at Cooper, "Sure would be nice to go." No reply. Nadine segues back into the issue of age '"Me, I already run five miles this morning, up to the creek and back. Gets my blood running." Proudly, "I only need three hours of sleep too. Must be the way I'm programmed, I guess. I make my body a machine. Keeps the devil away." Her grip on Cooper's shoulder tightens. "Oh!" Nadine has found something. Cooper cannot tell what it is. She staring at the top of his head. "Why D.B," Nadine is inspecting his scalp. "You got" Nadine has taken charge, holding onto his head. "You've got"
YANK. She has plucked from his head, "a white hair!" Ouch. Cooper messages his head, while Nadine plucks another one. "And there's another one!" Close-up on Nadine's hand, holding it up 'two shimmering white hairs. "Lookee at that." Ed's voice reminds Nadine that it "isn't polite to go pulling out people's hair like that." Cooper's mind is already working, quiet contemplation. Nadine's voice is distant to him, "Don't matter nothing. You know, last week, I must confess I gave mine a little rinse. Got nothing to hide, but nothing wrong in taking a little pride and interest in your appearance I think it was the Navajo said you take someone's hair, you take their soul. Gosh, I wasn't trying to robe your soul, D.B, just a little pruning"
Cough, cough, cough. The bearded man again has a coughing fit across the way- spilling his orange juice. Nadine is on her way. "Easy now, easy now! You got that stuff going down the wrong pipe!" Nadine has left Cooper's two stray hairs on the table. Cooper looks at it 'their whiteness contrasting with the table's deep brown grain. Nadine's voice in the background, "Leo! You get over here and clean this up!" She's patting the man on the back, and wiping his mouth, "You've got to go more slowly, Doc Lydecker. You'll choke yourself!" Leo cleans the mess, while Nadine repositions one of her figurines on the little edge on the wall.
Lydecker. The name has significance to Cooper. Nadine moves on, "Let me see what a mess has been made in my kitchen" She sniffs, "Something burning? It smells all funny in here!" She passes Lana who carries two plates of large omelets. Lana places them before the two men, "Two Sunny Smiles for my smiling boys. Eat up." Ed has unfolded his napkin and ready to "dig in." Cooper, however, stops Lana '"Is that man's name Lydecker?" Lana sighs, "Yeah, that's old Bob. He comes in every morning and don't have no luck." She taps her head, "Motor skills all screwy, you know." She lowers her voice conspiratorially, "He had the stroke a few years back. Ran that animal hospital and now nothing. Ain't ever taken a wife, and he just come in and sit. Don't bother no one neither, so we just let him sit. Kinda sad. You know, being old and stuff." Lana straightens up, adding one last flirtation, "Now you eat up, D.B. Be my big strong man like Ed here." She leaves. Ed's word are inaduible while he chews and chews, "Would it be impolite to order "˜nother one?" Cooper, fork at the helm, watches Lydecker. Leo is positioning a straw in the man's mouth, and more bright orange juice is being slurped.
Lydecker? Hold on Cooper. Softly to himself, "We lived above a convenience store"
Tight shot on a lovely hand wiping a yellow counter top. A set of weathered hands lifts a cup of coffee and mug, and the lovely hand swipes her rag under it. Norma tosses the cloth aside and moves to the cash register. Looks up and smiles, "Hi, Donna." Donna Hayward is across from her, "Big cup of your Earl Gray to go." Norma cuts a glance to Donna's pregnant stomach '"Sound choice." Norma pours, cutting a look at her customer, "Busy day?" Donna sighs, "Doing MacMurry's books today. Hanging out at a funeral home isn't exactly my idea of fun." Norma agrees. Donna sets her accounts book on the counter, opens her purse '"You know, Norma, despite what everyone says, number crunching really isn't all it's cracked up to be." Norma chuckles back, "I bet you're right. But besides, soon you'll have your hands full and it will take your mind completely off of it." Donna agrees, though without the radiance that Norma displays. Donna scans the diner, "How's Shel? Feeling better?" Norma shakes it off, "I called her this morning. Told her to take the day off and rest up. See, I can be charitable 'despite what everyone says." Donna laughs at the refrain. "Besides, I want Shelly to be at her best tonight" Norma has a glint in her eyes, wryly- "We're going to the height of Twin Peaks elite formal events tonight." Donna nods, "Ah, Ghostwood Country Club." Wryly back to Norma, "You are just on the up and up, aren't you." Norma is proud, "Even got Ed swearing he'd wear clean socks." Donna laughs, then thinks. "What about James?"
A beat. Norma knows Donna still cares for him. Serene, Norma gives the facts, "Don't know about James, Donna Hayward. Just that he is one of the sweetest dearest people I know. Who, I guess will be sitting home all alone and could use a little company." Donna, a little cold, not liking Norma pressuring her, "We could all use a little company now and again." Norma looks at her squarely, "James cares for you deeply, Donna."
Another beat. Donna hands over a bill, taking the plastic cup- "Thanks, Norma. Have fun tonight." Norma watches her depart, concern in her eyes 'life will be hard for Donna if she doesn't let love in. Norma's face changes, as a new customer passes past Donna- Pasqualini Milford, in a shocking red wrap and slicked back jet black hair, approaches. She acknowledges Donna's exit, "Such a beautiful young woman, she has the life in her." Pasqualini's English is broken, but has an unmistakable charm to it. "Norma Hurley as I live and breathe." Norma finds herself awkward in this stunning woman's presence, but in craves it. A woman that respects and understands her. "Mrs. Milford, what can I get you?" Pasqualini positions herself on the stool, "Ahhhh, Mrs. Hurley what do you recommend?" Norma takes a moment, lightly, "Something light I think, but that will stick to your ribs. I'll surprise you." Norma turns, delivering the order through the kitchen window. Pasqualini looks down, and runs her fingers on an object 'Donna's account book. Norma is back to her friend, "Excited about tonight?" Pasqualini ponders, "Big parties do not a, what is the word, thrill me like they did when I was a girl. I do not find the a excitement. You think how you must present yourself, what you must wear and be looked at. Like you are a package with a bow on it it is much work." Norma thinks it's ironic coming from this woman who probably rolls out of bed each morning looking flawless. Pasqualini gives a lovely bird like laugh, "My second husband said I spent too much time worrying about the outside that I was mistreating my inside. Before he died, I took his advice." Norma thinks that's wise, but then stops. "Second husband? How many times have you been married?" Pasqualini dodges the question, "Someone has forgotten something, I think." Norma glances down at the book, "Oh, no. Donna! She's going to need that." Pasqualini looks to the diner's door 'no Donna. "The girl who left?" Norma nods, reaching for the phone, "Yeah, all her clients. She's heading over to Norman's I'll let them know" Pasqualini shakes her head, "No, no. I will take it over. It will be not a nuisance." Norma hangs up the phone, "Very neighborly of you." Pasqualini removes her wrap, settles in, "After my breakfast, of course." Norma smiles, lifting a bin of used coffee cups. Pasqualini locks eyes with Norma, her voice goes quiet but is powerful '"I loved each and every one of them deeply." Norma gets a chill. How many men has this woman led to their deaths?
Crash. Norma comes to her senses, realizing she has dropped the bin. Coffee cups are overturned, their remnants dripping out onto the floor. Norma apologizes, "Sorry, forgot myself for a moment" Pasqualini lifts herself up, looking over the counter to the mess. Norma is bending over fixing the calamity. Close-up a tipped coffee mug 'the black liquid slowly dripping into another like sludge. A recall of the Black Lodge's magic.
Truman's pickup truck continues on. A new strip of highway. It passes a signpost 'State Penitentiary.
ACT 2: Great Northern.
(Oddly, not an establishing shot of the waterfall). Large picture window with beams of sunlight spilling into it, exposing the twinkles of dust on the polished wooden floor. Kool Kat Kool's controlled snap keeps the rhythm to the scene.
"Murder whooooo?" Slow panning along the floor.
"Lovely. I would take a hatchet and sneak up and deliver a blow to the back" More panning. "
Simply too messy. It works in the movies, but mind you, you try it if only to lift it I could barely get a dent in my wood chipper the victim would scream and it would not be neat and could fight you off" More panning to the legs of a table. "Cyanide I would carefully open up one of their liver capsules, and sprinkle it in" Panning up to a trio of elderly women in the Northern Dining Hall. They delicately sip their tea, gracefully holding their sauces and lifting the cup to their mouths. "Ohhh, yes, yes." "And no detection would be assumed they have died in their sleep." "Abigail, marvelous! Not very romantic though." They sip. "I envision using my gardening shears. They are large enough to fit around a neck, and snip" Panning to the side of their table
"Oh, Beatrice! Ghastly" Albert Rosenfield appears to be losing his appetite listening to the ancient. He pushed his coffee away slowly. More panning 'next to him is Johnny Horne who has a large children's book of Jonah and the Whale, intently reading or scanning the pictures; next to him, Audrey Horne drinking her own coffee and going over a series of papers- she wears black horn-rimmed glasses. Trudy moves into frame with two breakfast plates, sliding it in front of Audrey and Albert. She places a bright orange juice by Johnny 'with a pink cocktail umbrella stuck in it. Albert moans again, pushing the plate away. Audrey doesn't look up- "Eat the dry toast, Albert 'it will settle your stomach." Albert takes the toast and nibbles. "If they were to fall in the bathtub, and hit their head, cracking the skull" Albert massages his temple, uttering under his breath, "Whatever happening to Bingo Night?" One of the elderly women beams to Albert '"We're planning a Murder Who! You invite all your friends over and there's a murder!" Albert, "Shouldn't take very long" Another interrupts, "Oh, but it isn't a real murder" And then the third, "No, no. It is only pretend!" "Yes, yes. A lovely game!" "We would run out of people if it were real." The three merrily laugh delightedly. "Would you like to play Murder Who? How would you murder? Drowning? A gun shot, perhaps- directly to the heart?" A beat on the incredulous Albert. Audrey glances over her glasses to Audrey 'a smirk on her face 'is helping Johnny sign a paper. "Yes, Albert 'how would you murder someone?" Albert deadpans to his new friends '"Solution's obvious, my dear women. I'd marry them. Marriage will kill any good man. Granted, it's slow but effective every time." The elderly women continue to laugh and move back into their private circle- "Hee hee hee, marry them 'oh, that is good"
Albert's attention is back onto Audrey instructing Johnny with pen. "and here and here. That's good." Albert sizes up Johnny, "The kid's got to be the luckiest guy in town. Richest one I know anyway" Audrey removes the glasses, and takes the papers putting them into a briefcase, "Johnny's not a child, Albert." Johnny lifts the picture book, Albert doesn't comment on the irony, "No, of course not." Audrey continues, "In point of fact, he's more capable than anyone else in the family. He just needs a little protection, that's all from the big bad world. Doctor Jacoby thinks all Johnny needs is a more nurturing environment and you got to agree with that one. Point for Doctor Jacoby." Albert is dubious, "And the fact, that you've randomly anointed Jacoby as a joint guardian on that trust doesn't give you pause on his motives?" Audrey shrugs, "I trust him, Albert. And if I'm not allowed to be around let's not get into this now."
A small beat. Albert tidies his napkin, and shifts gears. "You're seeming chipper today, Horne." She shrugs. He continues, "My convalescence with the flu allowed me to do a little light reading from the Great Northern library do you remember your grandfather?" She nods in return. "Hell of a man. Born an orphan, learned the trade of lumber, a scholar of Greek philosophy, travelled the world twice over, and then single-handedly built the foundation under which we sit. Mark it in my book as "˜not too shabby.'" A new voice 'a man's:
"Perhaps it's in the genes and has skipped a generation."
Albert and Audrey turn to the women's table. Nestled amongst them is Hammett. He raises a mug to them, "Salutations, my friend." Albert is dumbfounded '"Well, I'll be a son of a dog.
Hammett." Audrey does a double take from Albert to the stranger. "Ladies, if you don't mind" Hammett scoots his chair from one table to the next, giving one of the elderly a tender pinch on the cheek. He extends a friendly hand, "Albert. You look good. Lost that spare tire" Albert does not offer his. Close-up on the lingering hand; then to Audrey, "You know this guy?" Hammett does the responding 'plucking up Albert's dry toast and chewing on it, "Does he know this guy? Albert and I go way back, huh, Albert? What's it been, five or four years?" Albert is stoic, correcting the man, "Seven." Hammett merrily gnashes away at Albert's meal, "Mmmm, wow, time flies-seven." Makes direct eye contact with Johnny, "You know they say seven is the magic number. Whaddya think that's all about, kid?" Johnny smirks back at the charmer. "Hiya, Audrey." Audrey darts her glance back and forth between the man and Albert '"Albert, what's going on?" Albert, however, does not remove his gaze on Hammett, "What's going on is we are looking at one Doyle Hammett, former member of the bureau, renegade traitor and all around pain in the ass." Hammett winks to Audrey, "Ahh, he remembers." Audrey stiffens, "FBI?" Albert is icy and direct, "Are you tracking us?" Hammett folds his arms and leans into Albert, "I believe we have the same interests at heart. You want to speak with Catherine Martell? Well, maybe I can help." No response. "There's this little shin ding tonight feel like crashing?" Albert informs Hammett that Catherine has fled. "Oh, she'll be there. I can guarantee it." Albert leans in going head to head, "What's your modus operandi?"
A beat 'noses almost touching; Hammett breaks the stare and turns to Audrey, "Let's all continue this conversation in a more private- and comfortable- atmosphere." He stuffs the last remnant of Albert's toast into his mouth.
Kool Kat Kool fades as the camera pulls back through the dining hall doors, where Jerry Horne passes along the lobby. He cradles a bowl and spoons a yogurt-like substance into his mouth. A dark suit shielded in plastic wrap draped under his arm.
Tracking shot of the shining office floor.
Don't Do Anything (That I Wouldn't Do) trickles 'slow, melodic. The furniture has all been overturned and placed in new configurations; scattered piles of toy soldiers, stacks of yellowed papers, photo albums, records and their sleeves separated, a lone sock. Tracking stops at a green quilt sprawled over the desk and chairs, creating a tent. Jerry flings the office door open and saunters in, not noticing or caring about the newest decorating treatment. "Gooood morning, Good morning to you, and you and you" Jerry stops his sing song. Surveys the room. "Brother Ben?"
A beat. Puff, puff, puff. Little shots of smoke rings shoot out from the tent's crevice. Jerry squints, placing the bowl and suit aside. Lowers himself down, "Ben, you decent?" A beat. Puff, puff, puff. Jerry raises part of the blanket revealing Benjamin Horne. He is dressed in silk pajamas and seated Indian style 'the cigar firmly in place. Something is off about his head of hair though. Jerry is delighted, "Ah, I can dig it. We used to do this when we were kids." He scouts in next to Ben, assuming the same position. Another beat, Ben does not make eye contact. "Brought you your suit, and bet you clean up real nice. Big night for the Brothers Horne." Nothing. Notices the hearing aid in Ben's lap. Picks it up and begins to fasten it to Ben's ear. Raises his voice, "SAID A BIG NIGHT FOR THE BROTH"Ben pushes the hand away. He answers softly, "I can hear you fine." Jerry is astounded. "I don't need it. I can hear perfectly well." Jerry remains baffled, "But how, when?" A close up two shot: Ben turns and faces Jerry, matter of fact, "Do you believe in God?" Jerry squints in return, "The big cheese upstairs? Sure, why not?" Ben takes his hand in his, "Jerry, would you believe it if I told you I was saved by God himself?" The grip is quite tight. "I remember fire and smoke and a very loud bang, brimstone. All these floods of memories washing over me in an instant" Jerry tries to pry his hand away, "The bank explosion, Ben. You're talking about the bank." Ben continues in a trance, "Blink of an eye, complete judgment time stopped. Mother, Dad Aunt Eugenia lined up Persephone rode with Hermes, and I too was ready to get on board" Jerry is successful in releasing himself. Moves out from the tent, "Ben?" Ben's eyes lift up, "But then God sent down an angel and she protected me she saved me" Jerry is back to his bowl of yogurt, "An angel?" Ben moves along with his reverie, "Her face was so bright, giving me hope. I didn't know it at the time, didn't remember until last night. I saw her again, she came to me, filled me with such hope and promise bathed me in happiness and after that, I could hear perfectly. Perfectly." Jerry takes another mouthful, "Does this angel take payment up front or is credit negotiable?" Ben moves some of the debris around him, finds the picture frame, "An angel." Laura Palmer's black and white photo stares back at him. He turns it and presents Laura's visage to his brother. Jerry's spoon drops in the concoction, "L.P.? .oooooohh, Benji I think your brain's gone soft. If, and I stress
IF Laura's up there doing some cosmic good, I don't think your ticket is at the top of her list to be punched." Ben isn't affected; he studies Laura's photo, whispers inaudibly. Jerry rolls his eyes, and tosses the wrapped suit at Ben's feet- "Let's get you scrubbed up and hit the nightlife." Ben nods to himself softly, "I am clearly meant for great things. Salvation." (leave it to Ben to have delusions of grandeur.)
Establishing shot of Sherriff's station. Molly sits in the booth, doing a crossword puzzle. Shelly enters carrying a Double R box. "Hiya, Shelly. Wowsa, you look so nice today. I heard you weren't feeling so well, bit of a flu" Shelly is self conscious, never confident to pull off a hidden agenda. "Is Charlie in?" Molly quickly shakes her head, "Gosh no, I thought he woulda told you and all 'he's gonna be over in Fairview for most of the whole day, with Tommy and Ernie. Cost Efficiency in the Workplace." Molly takes note that she is doing a crossword and promptly tucks it away. Shelly feigns ignorance. "Molly, I brought Charlie's Lean Plate shame to waste it." Molly offers a hand, "I guess I could eat a salad for my lunch" Shelly moves past, "I'll just put it in his little fridge in the office, and if he gets back early" Molly notes, "Oh yeah, the ulcer you're right. Well, okay then." Shelly tightly smiles and segues on. "And oh hey, Shelly?!" She stops frozen, turns back to Molly. "You excited about tonight? It's all Sherriff Powell's been talking about. You know, Ghostwood. Hope you bring your dancin' feet and hope you feel better." A slight icy stare for the rival of her unrequited's affection, "You wouldn't want to let Charlie down." Molly's smile fades once Shelly departs. She begins to readjust her hair, probably trying to replicate Shelly's.
Shelly enters the darkened office, glancing over her shoulder. Leaves the Double R box on Powell's desk and heads immediately to a filing cabinet. Jumps at the sight of an officer passing by the open doorway, acts casually. Moves quickly through one drawer and then to another. Not finding what she's looking for. Moves through another drawer, thumbing along. Finally she leans closer, inspects a manila tattered tab 'Palmer. She clumsily hurries to the desk, to her large purse and shoves the envelop inside. A voice spins her around,"You snooping around in the dark?"Startled, Shelly is flummoxed to see Hawk framed in the doorway. He flicks the light switch on, "You all right, Shelly?" She gulps, not knowing how much he's seen, "I just came to to give this to Charlie" She lifts the box and shoves it to Hawk. He takes the box, "That's all?" She nods back, still acting like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar. "Yeah, yeah it's his lunch only he's not here so I was going to put it in his little fridge and he could eat it when he got back or something" Hawk is calm, "You feeling all right?" Shelly just wants to get out of there, "Me? Yeah, yeah yes. Okay, I have to go now. I'll see you around." Shelly hurries to the exit. "Shelly?" She stops and turns, listens to Hawk. "You be careful now." Meekly, she nods again, "I will." Quickly and awkwardly departs. Alone, Hawk looks down at the Double R take out box. Scans the office.
Exterior shot. Mid-morning sunlight. Ed's truck pulls into lot. Lydecker sits in between Cooper and Ed, gumming on a saltine cracker. Ed's POV focus moves from Lydecker to a two story house. The lower portion boarded up, closed down- looks to have once been a storefront. "Well, doc. Here we are." Lydecker never answers. Appears to always be between reticence and senility. Cooper ventures, "Do you always take a morning constitutional, Mr. Lydecker and do you have helpfuls that bring you to the grocery, your mail and so forth?" Nothing from Lydecker, just a wiggle of his mouth, crumbs in his whiskers. Cooper removes himself from the passenger side, helping the man out. Lydecker unfolds a compact walking cane, and takes an eternity to reach pavement. Cooper's attention moves from Lydecker's arm to studying his home. "Ed, what was this place?" Ed is pensive- "This? Well let's see oh, this was old Bette McFarland's shop about twenty years ago." Cooper has the gleeful glint in his eye, "A convenience store?" Ed shakes his head, "Nah, more of a paper, gifts, wrapping" Cooper nods, "Stationary." Lydecker is already moving slowly but surely to the building; Cooper quickly anchors him 'speaks louder, "Mr. Lydecker, may I help you up your stairs?" Nothing. Ed shrugs, attempts to turn the engine off. Cooper halts him, "No, Ed. I'll look after him." Ed asks if he's sure. Cooper, magical youthful expression- "A walk back home could do me some good." Ed shrugs again, thanking Cooper for the breakfast and saying a hearty "So long"to Lydecker. The truck peels away, leaving the duo hobbling towards the dilapidated building. Traveling closer and tortoise-like speed, Cooper's POV examines the soot-stained covered windows of the shop, the portions of rotted wood on the beams, the peeling paint. It is a relic, but to Cooper, it is nothing short of majestic.
Interior of a long, narrow hallway. Looking down from a rotted, broken stairwell. In one continues shot, Cooper opens the front door, waiting for Lydecker to pass him. Long beat. Lydecker lifts the first leg up, steadies himself with the cane, and then the next leg. Cooper always closely behind to catch him. The motion continues, with only three steps completed. A slow fade of time returns to Cooper and Lydecker only on the seventh step; Cooper's attention always skyward. Another slow fade of time, and Lydecker and Cooper have reached the top. The jingle of keys are heard, and the creaking of a door.
Cooper stands in a large, broken room 'two windows covered in torn papers, allow hints of sunlight to cascade in'revealing the grim, and flicks of dust. It is a near replica of the
Fire Walk With Me set that Phillip Jeffries alluded to. The vintage green formica table placed in the center, chairs around it. A tattered couch along the wall.
Fire Walk With Me theme trickles in. A flood of flashes quickly come over Cooper 'faintly through the score, Jeffries,
"above a convenient store I've been to one of their meetings Elga, baby, damn no! I found something!" Another flash with the Little Man's voice
"YTICIRTCELE."(Electricity) Static patches and Jeffries screams cut out as well as the score. Cooper shakes it off, regains his senses. Lydecker is now seated at the table 'has time passed? Cooper moves cautiously through the room, towards the window, feels the glass pane, its texture. Raises his hand and each finger of his right hand touches his thumb, checking his motor skills. Jeffries again, "
Who do you think this is here?" Cooper shakes it off. Moves to the formica table and sits opposite Lydecker.
A beat. Lydecker's mouth chews; his eyes are voids. Slowly, his attention is completely on Cooper 'a garlbed, withered voice, "Doublewader." Cooper is chilled.
The wind blows through the trees. Fade to an industrial building with barb wired fences surrounding it.
Two hands twiddle a cowboy hat. A woman's voice,
"Mr. Truman, sir? You can go in now." Truman stands up in a waiting area, nods to a matronly looking woman, moving past her to a steel door. A uniformed man unlatches it, and slides it open. The matron steps in front of Truman, "You get twenty minutes. And I won't have you upsetting him, you understand me? You're not to get him riled up or your privileges are revoked." Truman complies. She produces a clipboard, "Sign here, and do the same when you're finished."
Sound of metal, uncomfortable. Truman walks into a yellow room, a sickly glow to it. The room is separated with a plate of glass and with a communing booth of either side. Truman moves to it, looks over his shoulder as the uniformed man stands at attention. Through the glass, the imposing metal door slides open. Truman cautiously sits, attention on the form moving towards him.
Thump, thump, thump. The walk is broken, inconsistent of rhythm. Trickle of
Bookhouse Boys. Reveal shot of a clubbed foot inching along, panning up to a disjointed leg in a beige jumpsuit. More of the twisted form, a disjointed spin, arms roll strangely in their sockets, one hand a permanent clutched fist. Truman wipes his forehead, clears his throat. Entering and sitting into frame is Hank Jennings. He has lived hard. His face worn with time and strain; one eye barely able to remain open.
A beat. The corners of Hank's mouth turn into a sly smile. "Harry S. Truman." Ironically adding- "You look like hell."
Truman is pleasant, "How you making out, Hank? They treating you all right in here?" The former rival chuckles. "I don't hear from you in six years and all you got for me is "˜Are they treating me all right?' Heh, heh yeah, they're treatin' me all right. "˜Bout you? Life been treating you all right?" Truman cuts to the chase, "I got your letters, all of them." Hank's good eye narrows, "Well, you certainly took your sweet time in getting' here. Hell, we're practically family. "˜Bout the only thing you got." Hank stifles a cough and a laugh. Truman looks over his shoulder again, his voice lowers- "I need some answers, Hank. But first I have to know what you want in return." A long beat. Hank sidesteps the offer, "You know, I've done an awful lot of reading over time. Time's all I got; my only commodity is what's up in here,"he taps at his head. Coughs again. "How's Norma?" Truman makes a pleasantries about her status. Hank is reflective, "Good for Norma. Guess she's respectable now. Always was more trouble than she was worth." Truman is more urgent, "What do you know about Andrew Packard's research?" Hank continues to hold the cards and sidesteps, "Man, you were cock of the walk once upon a time, weren't you? Me, I never had that kind of recognition. Kinda stuck in the background. Yeah, I done a lot of reading, important to keep up. Amazing how a series of events can bring a man down, isn't it?" Truman knows he must endure this. "Yeah, amazing how time can destroy a man look at me, it's gone from the inside out." Truman implores, "Andrew Packard." Hank relishes his time, "A series of events can turn south on a man. You take that Palmer girl. She gets killed and that brings a stranger which brings a kidnapping for some poor girl, and her daddy don't like that too much and after her three year nap, she doesn't corroborate your side of the story" Truman is seeking connection, "The things I've seen, unimaginable." Hank notes this, but continues on with his list, "Town thinks they've got a loon running it, that ain't good. Tends to lead a man to drink. Loose that grasp he thought was so firm" Truman interrupts again, "Tell me about Andrew Packard" Hank laughs loudly, begins another coughing fit. Clears his throat, bends over and hacks a mess of phlegm onto the floor. Truman is disgusted. In the background, the security guard-
"Good lord, Jennings! I'm not cleaning that up! I won't be cleaning that up!"
Hank smiles at what he's produced, the hassle. Returns to stare at Truman.
"Andrew Packard? Now let's see, wasn't he married to a little lady. If I remember correctly? Oh yes, that's about right. Josie. Josie, Josie, Josie."Truman is reflective, but stern, listens to Hank. "Andrew Packard is dead, that's all I know. Dead and buried Mr. Former Sherriff." Truman is pleading, "Hank, you wrote to me. Said I wasn't crazy. If you have any decency left in you, of what you once were honor compassion this isn't about me" Hank smiles back, "This about your friend, isn't it? Little FBI man, huh? Sorry Harry, he's long gone." Truman is still, letting the statement resonate. A guard moves quickly to Hank, nudging him, pointing at the ground.
"You think this is funny, Jennings?" Hank smirks at Truman. Truman mouths back, "Help me." Another guard is moves in lifting Hank up-
"That's it, Jennings. Not gonna make a mockery out of us, whaddya think we are?" Truman mouths again, while Hank is being carried away. Hank gives one last look over his shoulder. Before he reaches the door, something comes over him 'a change of heart. He shouts at Truman, "Hey, Harry! Talk to Catherine. Ask her about Judy- that's your answer! She can save your friend!" The guards have successfully gotten Hank to the metal door. Hank gives one last animalistic yell, "WE LIVE INSIDE A DREAM!"
Truman sits alone, pondering the information. A tap on his shoulder. The matron is by his side. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave now."
Bookhouse Boys fades.
ACT 3: Smoke travels out of a chimney. Exterior shot of a cabin- not seen since the third season. Patches of melting snow, clumps of dried leaves.
Twack. Twack. Wood being chopped.
"Boy?... Boy?!"A harsh voice calls. Leo bends up from the wood block, lowers the axe to his side, and looks to the cabin.
"Boy!... get your hide in here." Leo dangles the axe, and then expertly hurls it into the block. Leans down and picks up the fresh kindling.
Interior of the cabin. Close-up on the front door as Leo's boot knocks it open. He moves about the room to wood stove- drops the bundle before it. Coughing and wheezing behind him.
"I want my lunch. I don't want waiting." Leo begins to slice through a loaf of bread. More coughing.
"Damn near cut my toe of the side of the bed, you'll need to mend it." Close-up on a callused, worn big toe, next to a rusty bed rail.
"Come on, come on, boy." A balled up rag hits Leo's back; he flinches slightly while continuing to fix a sandwich.
"Molasses is what you shoulda been named" More coughing.
"Never worth a damn. The worthless are wrapped in a sack and dropped to the river's bottom when they're born 'levels out the weak don't make me wish you were in that bundle" A groan while the voice lifts himself up. Leo turns, and walks slowly to the cot. Propped up is Butler- a shell of his former self. Looks smaller, not imposing, much smaller in stature, and very, very sick. Leo lays the plate on Butler's lap- helps the man grasp the sandwich. "Yeah good." Leo moves away seeking a wet cloth. Butler continues to eat, coughing in between each bite. "That woman pay you today? Let's see it." Leo daps at Butler's head, wiping away traces of sweat. Butler sways his head, more of a nuisance- "Come on, come on. Hand it over." Leo digs into his pocket producing crumpled up bills. Butler's withered, shaking hand clutches the money, counting it and sliding it under the sheet. "Good, good you're a good boy."
A beat. Butler spits out a portion of the sandwich onto the plate, "Uck no, no. Get my spirits." Leo takes the plate and moves away. Butler lets out a pained yell, lifting himself into a seated position. "Leo, Leo what man must endure they think they've got me think they can cheat me early" Leo returns with a shot glass and whiskey. Butler takes both, swigging from the bottle, "We'll show "˜em, won't we?" Another cough. Pours a shot into the glass. "Leo the end of the world is coming." Leo looks at the man expressionless.
Shelly's theme (Ghostwood) instrumental rises
The office door to Catherine's office at Ghostwood has been border up with yellow police tape. Caterers along with police officers pass in front of it. Pulling back denotes the traffic for the night's festivities. Her office sits nestled at alongside of the top of the landing of the ornate staircase. The chandelier looms high above while workers move up and down. Sheriff Powell and another office moves down the stairs in wide shot 'with Givens nipping at their heels.
"Postpone your investigation/ I won't have this turn into a madhouse/ it isn't a crime scene!"
Exterior shot of Powell and his officer exiting into a grand, opulent garden. Givens is desperate about
"keeping the matter hushed this is completely out of character for Mrs. Martell I don't like it, don't like it one bit." Yards away, focus switches to Bobby; glancing over his shoulder at the commotion; perched on a balustrade giving another inhale to his cigarette. His attention drifts. Notices a man dressed in gray, sunglasses mask his eyes. His arms neatly placed in front of him, and leaning against the cool, shadowy brick wall. Sign behind the man- BOILER ROOM/ AUTHORIZED. A tennis ball rolls to his dangling feet.
"I'm frightfully sorry!" Shrubbery, hedges, grotesque lawn ornaments and a striking pair of bare legs. Moving up the form, a beautiful woman wears a stark white tennis outfit, her racquet sashays by her side- dabs her sweat with a small white towel. "I feel such a goose. Much too chilly for this." Bobby smiles at the woman; must be foreign, with an English accent. "Yeah, not really the season you're not from around here." Jones, with the right amount of the coquette- "Gracious, no. I've only been visiting my uncle . He belongs to the club. Thought I could manage up a partner, but no go, I'm afraid. Tell me do you play?" Bobby eyes the racquet, and her ample physique, "Nah, not really my scene." Jones laughs- the consummate assassin, "Your scene? No, I'm sure it isn't. I'm sure your into something thoroughly more American." Bobby likes her innuendo; like her. Ask her how long she is in town for, "I could show you all we have to offer." Jones laughs, her eyes dart expertly to the grey suit. From a distance, Jones and Bobby flirt on the balustrade, while another grey suit exits the BOILER ROOM door and walks in unison with his partner.
Sound of a cough. Shiny wooden floor, a black heeled shoe gently, impatiently bobs 'shot pans up to Audrey's crossed legs. She's seated in a swivel chair, slowly moving back and forth. Albert crosses in front of her, coughing again into a handkerchief. Hammett is sprawled out on his hotel bed playing and folding a Great Northern hospitality pamphlet. Albert is reassessing the information while pacing, "If I'm on the same page with you, and feel free to jump in any time and correct me if I'm wrong- A) you went to South America even before Jeffries was on the trail. B) Andrew Packard's involvement with Amberson has been going on for at least fifty years. C) Judy is acquiring the Ghostwood land as a link between it and Manderley." (
The first mention of codename Manderley) Hammett nods, eyes fixed on the paper creation. Albert moves to Audrey's side, "You've been in hiding an awful long time, Doyle. Why the need to show your face now?" Hammett doesn't answer. Audrey pipes in, "It would collaborate with that Hunt business." She fills in Hammett, "One of Amberson's men knew I'd be here and offered up a phony negotiation on selling this place, really for the benefit of my uncle. It was all a ruse- she was pumping us for what I knew on Jeffries" Albert gives a stern eye to Audrey, quieting her; she's offered up too much information. Hammett turns on his side, "That was no ruse, the Ambersons want this land also, and all substantial around it. Then they can carry out their work as easily as they please" Audrey is vocal again, "We know about the Grove, but nobody even knows where Manderley is, or if it is! Earle could have flown or walked all the way down to South America for all we know!" Albert hushes the little one again, telling her to "listen to the man." Hammett likes Audrey's tenacity. He smoothly tells them he has been inching his way into the "Amberson Society, and have their full confidence." He calmly tells them Catherine Martell is holding vital information about Manderley's whereabouts "for the highest bidder for its key."
Albert is uneasy, not sure if he can trust Hammett. "Besides this is all hearsay. Horne comes routinely once a year on the privilege to see her family" Hammett interjects, "No, she comes here once a year to routinely check up on Former Agent Dale B. Cooper. Don't play coy with me, I remember how Gordon operates." Audrey is defensive, "Agent Cooper found me after the Grove, after I got away from Earle by the river, before" Albert is protective and guarded, "Dale Cooper is retired and this has nothing to do with any of this. Hospitality, plain and simple. He still has a place in Gordon's heart, in all of ours." Hammett shrugs, returning to his folding of the pamphlet, "Not a concern." He suggests Audrey and Albert join him in meeting Catherine tonight at the Ghostwood celebration. The union of the two might "tip the scale"before anything happens to her. "She's in a much more precarious situation than she realizes." Hammett sits up on the bed, looking to Audrey, "Fix yourself up nice. Catherine likes you. You're the ace in the hole." He hands her the pamphlet which has been made into a beautiful origami bird." Audrey looks wearily to Albert, who nods. She departs, quietly closing the door behind her. Albert folds his arms, "What's your real intention with Cooper?" Hammett stands before Albert, "I know he's not the casual cause you've painted him as. I know he's not off the radar"
In the suite hallway, Audrey listens at the door.
"Ronette Palaski has been wiped out; Jeffries is a preverbal ghost; Earle is dead; no one knows where Laura Hunt has gone. You might think he's safe buried up here, but Amberson will be coming for him" This news alerts Audrey immediately.
"It's only a matter of time before he's taken too" Audrey fumbles with the chain link around her neck, and produces and thumbs the ring. A ding behind her. She spins quickly 'at the length of the hallway, the Japanese Gentleman enters the elevator. He bows slightly to her, and the doors close. (It has come full circle since her last encounter with the man in the first season 'but she does not recall where she has seen him before). She moves away from the door with urgency.
"You've come to warn us?" Albert is losing his mask of calmness. "My one and only priority is to that girl. I don't want you or anyone else getting into her head." Albert cannot contain his cough. Hammett is light, "Take care of yourself, Rosenfield. Statistics show common cold kills more people." His levity breaks, revealing Audrey is also his priority and understands. "After tonight, do whatever it takes to get her out and far away from here. She must never come back. Change her name, her identity, everything. Or she'll never be safe. None of us know how much danger she is really in." Albert adds, "And Cooper?" Hammett is forlorn, "Cooper, as far as I can see, has already been lost."
IN PROGRESSGod, I love this music. Isn't it too dreamy?
Leyland was always one of my favourite characters and played the part of being possessed by Bob brilliantly, I would have not killed leyland off so fast it would have been a good idea to keep him alive and maybe come up with a storyline where he helps Coop in some way with regards to the Black Lodge.
